


I Wanna Die With All My Scars

by HT_Anon



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fluff and Angst, Gets real bad in second chapter you have been warned, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smut, Unhealthy Obsession, its a slow decline, like yandere level
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HT_Anon/pseuds/HT_Anon
Summary: Falling apart is a very poor time to fall in love.Either way, Wilbur is taking Tommy down with him.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/TommyInnit
Comments: 67
Kudos: 298





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> Please be sure to read tags before continuing and stay safe!! 
> 
> Enjoy!

How did Wilbur end up here?

Staring down a ravine, the wretched smell of the caverns an assault on his senses, and an arrow lodged halfway into his shoulder. 

How indeed. 

“Wil, _Wilbur!”_ Tommy’s concerned voice is enough to echo through the cave walls, they seem to shake. “Are you-- oh Christ your _arm--_ are you okay?!” 

The two are out of breath from running, being chased out of L’manburg by his own citizens. Wilbur’s vision swims with adrenaline, but he does his best to focus on the boy in front of him. Tommy is unharmed, thankfully, but panic is ever prevalent in his eyes. 

The kid reaches at his wound, before he can even get a hand on it, Wilbur flinches away. “I’m fine, alright?” 

“Okay, good, that’s good.” Tommy nods back in understanding, none of the fear leaves. “But- but the arrow--”

“Tommy,” Wilbur stresses his name. There is so much happening for him to wrap his head around, and right now Tommy feels like an extra strain. It’s so tempting to just mutter the words _’leave me alone’_ and send the kid away. 

But the way that Tommy looks back at him-- he can finally see it when his vision clears-- he looks so _scared_. Eyes wide as saucers, with tears resting on the ends of his eyelashes, threatening to fall at any moment. Tommy is fucking terrified. 

So he takes a deep breath to calm himself, as if putting his own oxygen mask on first. And, despite the piercing pain in his arm, he readjusts his priorities. 

“Tommy, I’m gonna be just fine, okay?” He tells him. “Not the first time I’ve been shot, I just need some help getting the arrow out and I’ll take it from there.”

Tommy’s eyes are still glossed over, but the gentle voice that Wilbur put on has partially reassured him, at the least. He stands up a little straighter and follows Wilbur’s lead of putting on a brave face. “How should I help?”

“It’s not in that deep, just need you to pull on the end of it, it should come out clean.” Wilbur explains to him. “Think you can do that for me, Toms?”

“Is that gonna hurt?” Tommy asks, sounding small. 

“Not for you.” He answers. “C’mon, it’s doing more damage if it stays in.”

Finally, Tommy agrees, placing his shaking hands on the shaft of the arrow. Wilbur can feel the weapon shift in his shoulder, moving along with the hand attached to it. He braces himself for Tommy to pull, however the moment doesn’t come. 

“Do- do you want me to count down or anything?” The kid is trying to stall, obviously hesitant to go through with it. 

“Don’t care,” Wilbur hisses through clenched teeth, patience growing thin. “Just get it the fuck out.”

“Alright, on three,” Tommy decides. “One...two....”

The pause after two is far too long, Wilbur thinks that Tommy just isn’t going to do it. Can he really blame him for not wanting to cause him any further pain? It’s almost sweet, but it doesn’t change the fact that Wilbur needs this goddamn arrow out of his--

“Three!”

_“FUCK!”_

The arrow is yanked out of his shoulder with a powerful force, one that he was sure Tommy was too frightened to use. Following the removal was a rush of blood and the sound of the arrow hitting the floor. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Tommy holds his hands up in a surrender. “In my defense, you were being impatient.”

Wilbur’s hand shoots towards the source of his pain, feeling the warm, wet wound as it bleeds through his clothes. It’s impossible to not audibly groan at the sharp and stabbing agony that plagues him. Other than that, he’s silent.

They’ve caught their breath by now, but the air around them remains heavy, difficult to inhale. The stuffy cave can be partially to blame, but there’s an entirely different factor in play. 

With the lack of an immediate threat chasing the pair down, reality can take it’s time to set in. 

Exiled. Exiled from the country he made. 

If Wilbur had any energy inside him that wasn’t focused on not bleeding out, he would be downright furious. He’s always been careful to not become a puppet to his emotions, but as he grasps his wound and remembers what had taken place previously, he could almost snap--

But then, he hears it, a quiet sniffle that sounds all too loud in the deafening silence of the ravine. A glance towards Tommy makes everything clear.

The boy in question hangs his head towards the floor, Wilbur can only watch as a tear trickles down his face. With that, all the anger in his heart dispearses, making room for another emotion: worry. 

As if he can feel Wilbur’s eyes on him, Tommy raises his head. In a flash, the teen throws an arm up to his face, quickly wiping the tears away. He almost looks embarrassed to cry. 

“Hey, hey,” Wilbur calls in the softest voice he can manage for Tommy’s attention. “Are you--”

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Tommy’s voice sounds wet with emotion. “I’m fine.”

Wilbur likes to think he knows the kid better than anyone. So obviously he is aware of how Tommy hates the feeling of helplessness more than anything else. Such a persona he puts on, an act where he doesn’t need anyone but himself. He doesn’t like to be treated carefully. 

But how can Wilbur not treat him like he’s fragile when he’s about to break?

“None of that,” Wilbur argues Tommy’s previous statement. “Come on, look at me.”

Tommy whines defiantly and shakes his head, his other arm coming up to help completely cover his face. 

Wilbur just sighs. “Look at me, Tommy.” He repeats.

Eventually, the arms hiding the younger's face resign, resting at his sides uneasily, like it’s taking a lot of effort to keep them there. 

Reluctantly, he meets Wilbur’s eyes. “Happy?”

It’s a rare sight to see Tommy like this, with tears sticky on his face and lips held tight together, biting the inside of his mouth to distract him. It’s all the more reason a protective side of Wilbur is forced to the surface. Everything that’s happening outside can wait, Tommy comes first. 

“Mhm,” Wilbur nods. “Now come here.” He lifts his arms a little bit, shoulder aching with the slightest strain, trying to signal a hug.

The kid is hesitant, but when he finally gives, he crashes. Landing in Wilbur’s arms like a comet, he buries his face into his shoulder, two hands grip the back of his jacket. 

Wilbur returns the sentiment, a little more gently, due to his injury. He can hear Tommy hiccuping on his breaths, trying to stay quiet and repress full on sobs. 

“See? You’re okay.” Wilbur assures gently. 

At that moment, it’s almost like he’s talking to himself as well. Trying to convince himself that things are fine while the cave whispers back his words at him. 

Tommy’s breath finally hitches as a cry tears through his throat, strangled as he tries desperately to contain the noise. The boy trembles, Wilbur can only do so much to soothe him, but he’s willing to do anything.

“You’re okay,” He says again. “We’re gonna be just fine, alright?”

When Tommy nods into his jacket, he almost believes there’s truth in those words. 

It doesn’t get any easier. 

The passage of time doesn’t heal anything, save for the wound on his shoulder. Wilbur is still hated by the people he cared for, he is still spending most of his time rotting away in the ravine, and he is still furious; he doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. 

But, there is one bright side to his situation, one constant in his life.

Tommy. 

Wilbur was worried that the shallow light of the cave was enough to dim even the brightest of sparks, as was the case for him. But Tommy, Tommy is a reluctant flame. 

He isn’t the same boy that Wilbur ran for presidency with, that's certain. There’s a shift in his personality, the same thing happened after the war for their independence. But there’s many things that never change; the real important ones. 

Like how Tommy is as reckless as ever, headstrong and stubborn. The kid throws himself into danger without a second thought. It’s incredible, Wilbur thinks, admirable, even. 

Wishing that he himself were more untouched by the wars, the betrayal and trauma. For Wilbur, they are a persistent ache; haunting memories that cling to the surface of his mind. Inevitably, they begin to weigh on him. 

Tommy is still Tommy. 

But Wilbur feels less and less like himself. 

“Tommy, are we the bad guys?” 

The boy stops dead in his tracks, the question catching him by surprise. “...What?”

Just a second ago, the two of them had been walking back to Pogtopia from a mission to gather resources. Now, however, they are at a standstill outside the door to their hidden, makeshift home. 

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Wilbur rephrases his question at Tommy’s confusion. 

Frankly, Wilbur’s had too much time to think. Though Tommy still goes out most days despite their exile, Wilbur is a lot more secluded, unwilling to leave the safety that the ravine walls provide. He hopes, at least, that’s what drove him to ponder his morals. 

“Huh? You finally go insane or somethin’?” Tommy doesn’t know how correct his question will become. “‘Course we’re right, Wil.”

“You would say that.” Wilbur can’t help but smile, let his worries ease in Tommy’s presence. 

The kid has a way of doing that, saying simple comments that mean the world to Wilbur. For fucks sake, Tommy was the only reassurance he had gotten that he was doing what was best, that he was still good. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy bites playfully. “Calling me predictable, eh?”

Wilbur chuckles. “I would never.” 

“You fucking-- I’ll show you predictable!” 

With that, Tommy drops all the supplies in his arms that he was carrying at leaps at Wilbur, who is forced to let his materials go as well as he braces for impact. The boy knocks into him, forceful enough to knock the air out of his lungs and make him stumble as he crashes onto the dirt. 

The two collide on the ground, Tommy hovers over him, grinning widely with his messy hair framing his face. Wilbur just stares, returning the smile, making no attempt to get up.

“Didn’t expect you to go down that easy,” Tommy teases him. “Guess you’re all old and shit now.”

Wilbur feels so soft, warm and comfortable under the kid's weight. The childlike glee that shines across Tommy’s features is truly something to behold; it’s contagious. 

It feels safe, assuring, it's everything.

Tommy feels like home. 

He grows on the teen more than he cares to admit. Sure, there’s the same need to protect him, a feeling expected of an older brother figure. But now there’s something else, something much more poignant.

In truth, Wilbur finds it all too easy to rely on him. Not for anything task wise, matters of that nature were definitely his job. But in the way that when he seeks out comfort, that familiar feeling of connection, Tommy is the only person he wants to go to. Then again, it’s not like he has many options. 

His dependence on Tommy doesn’t present itself in the healthiest ways. 

Things such as assigning more chores to the kid, a silent plea to remain with him longer. But it’s almost like all the time in the world isn’t enough. He needs more of him, probably more than Tommy can even offer. 

The feelings come to a dangerous head when Tommy is gone the entire day. 

It would have been normal behavior a month ago, but now, with how much time Wilbur demanded be spent with him, it felt like centuries apart from the one person he truly needed. 

“Where have you been?” Wilbur asks when Tommy walks in the door, he had been waiting for him to return. 

Tommy stares at him questionably. “With Tubbo, why?” He says slowly. 

There’s a pang of betrayal in Wilbur’s heart, an unnatural one. It’s almost like jealousy but not quite, more warped and twisted than that word would imply. 

“All day?” Wilbur presses. 

“Yeah, so what?” 

The feeling roots itself deeper, ugly and piercing as it gnaws on him. “Without me?”

He hadn’t even realized how sharp his voice had grown, it only becomes apparent when Tommy takes a moment too long to respond. Upon closer inspection, his expression had turned from one of confusion to borderline fear. 

“I’m… I’m sorry?” The words leave Tommy’s mouth slowly, uncertain. Like he doesn’t know what he did wrong. 

The guilt begins to rush in. 

“No,” _Fuck._ “It’s not-- don’t apologize.” 

God, what was he doing? What in the world was that? He hadn’t meant to be harsh, the feeling was just so overpowering and consuming. He isn’t owed any of Tommy’s time, it’s not his place to tell him where he should be. 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Tommy voices his concerns with a little humor attached. It doesn’t make it any less sincere, he is often messing around even when the underlying issue is serious. 

Wilbur has to ask himself the same question. 

“Nothing,” He decides. “Guess I just missed you.”

It’s quiet for a moment, an answer Tommy wasn’t expecting, he supposes. 

“You fucking sap,” Apparently that’s good enough for Tommy, a smile finds it’s way back to his face. Though Wilbur would be lying if he said it looked one hundred percent genuine. “Just say that next time, then, don’t get all weird about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wilbur tries to shake away any lingering feelings. “How was it with Tubbo, then?”

Wilbur watches as Tommy’s eyes shine, excitement running through them as he proceeds to speak of his adventure that day. Admittedly, Wilbur doesn’t pay much attention. He’s too busy caught up in his own head, still wondering what could have possessed him to make him act out like that. 

It takes him a while to put a name to the feeling. 

One night it hits him, not out of nowhere, but instead a slow, sinking realization. 

Wilbur hasn’t been sleeping much, and who could blame him. Whatever he feels throughout the day, it always grows worse when the sun goes down. There’s nothing to distract him from his thoughts; no loud, rambunctious kid who smiles like sunshine to ease his worries. 

There is just a dense darkness, a makeshift bed that creaks with every turn, and a mind that is far, far too loud. 

Until he hears some weird sounds traveling to his end of the cave. Instantly, he sits upright, heart racing. Is it an intruder? Did someone finally find them? Is Tommy okay?

Quiet as he can manage, Wilbur pulls himself out of bed. Grabbing a sword for his protection, he then reaches for a redstone light switch that will activate the lanterns that hang from the cave. 

Wilbur holds his breath and turns the lights on. 

And there’s nothing. Wilbur allows himself a deep breath of relief, perhaps he had just imagined the sound--

_“Boo!”_

Wilbur gets whiplash from how quickly he spins around on his feet. He moves off of instinct, arms shooting out with sword still in hand, and pins the intruder to the wall. 

But it isn’t long before he recognizes the once blur of shapes and colors against the wall, eyes adjusting, he gawks in surprise.

“Tommy?!”

“Yep! Did I get ya?” The boy snickers, prideful. “I know I did, the look on your _face,_ Wil!”

“You’re gonna give me a goddamn heart attack one day,” Wilbur declares, yet he’s truly relieved to see Tommy. “Gonna be the death of me, Toms.”

It sends Tommy into a brief, howling laughter. “Not my fault you can’t handle a little jumpscare, big man.” 

These antics Tommy gets up to are objectively annoying. Without a doubt, unnecessary. But if that’s the case, why does Wilbur not seem to mind one bit? In another time, this would certainly get on his nerves. Now, however, the racing of his heart is welcome, and Tommy’s laugh refuses to leave his mind. 

He shakes the thoughts away. “I’m gonna haunt you when I die.” He says. “What are you doing up, anyways?”

“Oh- well-” Tommy begins to seem sheepish, an abnormal expression for him. “Needed some fresh air, I was about to head out when I saw you stumbling in the dark like a fool.”

“Shut up,” There’s no malice in his voice, if anything, he follows the tune of Tommy’s always playful tone. “Some air isn’t a bad idea, actually. Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” Tommy shrugs. “If you can keep up.”

“What’s that supposed to--”

There’s not even time to finish his question before he gets the answer, it’s in the form of Tommy running away and giggling, but it’s still an answer. 

Now don’t get him wrong, Wilbur isn’t one to go running for senseless reasons, but that doesn’t stop him from dashing after Tommy like a bullet. They run up the stairs together, Tommy with his boundless energy, like nothing in his way could stop him.

Once they reach the top of the stairs and exit their ‘home’, Tommy breaks so suddenly that Wilbur nearly trips over him. Wilbur follows his gaze, wondering what had caught his attention.

He traces Tommy’s eyes back to the sky. The night, vast and littered with stars, stares right back at him. A glance back at Tommy reveals that he looks enamored by the sight, mouth slightly open as he smiles, eyes wide with that simple amazement. 

Wilbur enjoys this view better. 

“Not bad, yeah?” Tommy is ignorant to Wilburs eyes. “Gotta be tons of ‘em if you think about it, thousands of stars.”

“Yeah,” He agrees, breathless. 

If Wilbur looks close enough, the stars begin to reflect back into Tommy’s eyes. Whole constellations appear, as if they contain galaxies. Why bother with the sky when it’s all right there?

“I come out here a lot, y’know?” Tommy tells him.

Wilbur breaks out of the trance just enough to form a coherent response. “You do?”

“Yup,” He answers. “I usually sit in the grass too and just kinda… there’s a word for it, I think...”

“Stargaze?”

“Yeah! That thing.”

Then Tommy sits down, motioning for Wilbur to take a seat next to him. Sitting down, the grass cold under him, he finally looks away from Tommy and back at the sky. 

This doesn’t seem like a very ‘Tommy’ activity, if that makes sense. Sure, it’s nice, but Tommy feels much more wild. Tommy is like fireworks, large and loud bursts of light and the smell of smoke. This serenity, calm and quiet, it doesn’t fit him quite right. 

He can certainly see the appeal. Watching the dark clouds flutter around, occasionally grazing over a star while it makes it’s journey across the night. It’s very grounding, actually, much less stuffy than the confines of the cave. It feels real. This feels real. 

Maybe that’s what Tommy sees in it, too. 

“Is it calming?” Wilbur asks. 

Tommy takes a moment, like he’s pondering it. “I guess,” He decides. “Makes my head all empty ‘n shit.”

“Reckon it doesn’t change much, if that’s the case.” Wilbur can’t help the slight at him. 

Despite himself, Tommy laughs as he jabs an elbow into his side. “Fuck off.”

Wilbur huffs out a laugh, neither of them look at each other during the exchange. Tommy with all of his attention spent on the stars, but Wilbur is honestly just fretful that he will fall back into his strange haze. 

It’s a different type of quiet, Wilbur notes. The cave is an eerie silent, one that begs a listener to strain their senses, trying to find some semblance of sound. Outside, it is an easy quiet, a wordless blanket that brings comfort. 

Though Wilbur does wonder, is it just that he’s outside, or the fact that he’s with Tommy?

Either way, time moves quicker here, in this simple state of mind. He doesn’t know what time it is exactly, but he can see it in how the moon passes slowly overhead. 

Wilbur figures that this was just what he needed to clear his thoughts. 

Then he feels a weight against the side of his arm, up near his shoulder-- luckily not the injured one. A simple movement of his eyes to the area reveals the soft tufts of golden hair. 

Everything stills for a moment, maybe even his heart.

“Tommy?” Wilbur calls, quiet. 

No response. 

Only the gentle breathing of the kid as he rests. Every rise and fall of his chest can be felt, it reminds Wilbur that he had unconsciously started holding his own breath. 

Wilbur feels an ache inside of him, one that craves this attention. Instantly, he blames it on how touch starved he is. It’s to be expected when the only presence he’s encountered since exile has been Tommy, who only lays hands on him to shove him around. 

He sighs, the kid can’t fall asleep out here. It’s too cold, and honestly Wilbur has grown tired of sitting. Carefully, the older lifts Tommy off of him, and, with some maneuvering, picks Tommy up in his arms and carries him inside. 

Once beside Tommy’s bed, he pauses. Looking down at the boy in his arms, an impossibly strong sense of longing fills him. He looks so different when he’s asleep, looks more relaxed than he ever does awake. Wilbur doesn’t want to let him go. 

So instead, he selfishly walks to his own bed and lays Tommy down in it. Lying, he tells himself that it’s because his bed is comfier. 

After placing Tommy down, Wilbur brings the covers up over him, gently tucking the edges underneath him. Then, he lays down beside him, facing the kid. 

It’s a very different side of Tommy he’s witnessed tonight; a less chaotic one. It feels special, like he’s one of the few people with access to it. He wants to be the only one to see him like this. 

And there it is, the word finally comes to him. 

Possessive. 

He falls asleep before he can think too much about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New warnings!! Stay safe and enjoy!
> 
> ((Also very sorry I was almost two weeks late with this update :(( hope it’s good enough to make up for the wait!

Tommy is gone by the time Wilbur wakes up. 

All the kid left was an indent in the covers in his shape, it is the only thing that convinces Wilbur he hadn’t dreamt the last night out of loneliness. 

Shifting in his bed, Wilbur reaches his hands up to his face to rub at his tired eyes. Part of him wants to fall back asleep, he hadn’t slept so peacefully since this exile had begun. But something tells him that it won't be long before the restlessness settles back into his bones. 

Where there’s no Tommy, there’s no comfort.

Sighing, Wilbur sits up, eyes begin to trace the spot where he laid Tommy down last night. He tries to recreate the image in his head, to pretend the boy never left and will his presence into existence.

Wilbur misses him. More than anything.

He hardly registers when he begins to cry, the tears fall treacherously without his knowledge until they form droplets on his clothes. It’s unfair, he thinks, to need someone so badly. 

It fucking _hurts._

The thoughts are so loud that they overwhelm any other senses, he misses the sound of footsteps, and is only brought back by a familiar voice. 

“Oh, you’re awake! I was gonna head out to see Tu-” Looking up, Wilbur spots Tommy, who appears to have just noticed him as well and is beginning to struggle with his words. “...Wilbur?”

Tommy hasn’t really seen him like this before, Wilbur realizes as he feels his tears run down his face. He wants to tell Tommy he’s fine, but he doesn’t trust his voice to work, and it would be a lie anyways. So they just stare in silence until Tommy speaks again.

“You’re…” Crying, he knows. “Are you alright?”

Wilbur finally gains the courage to speak. “Yes.” He says, plainly, flat; as if he weren’t crying at all. 

“You sure?” Tommy looks at him skeptically. 

He’s not, but he nods. 

“You suck at lying.” The boy sighs, he knows him too well. 

Tommy, well, isn’t great at handling feelings; he can hardly process his own, much less Wilbur’s which are currently much more unusual. But that doesn’t seem to stop him from heading back to the older’s bed, placing a knee and his hands on the edge and leaning in closer to Wilbur. 

The blond’s face is heavy with concern, confusion too. Wilbur begins to analyze him subconsciously, the way his hair is still a fluffy mess of untidy bedhead, eyes scanning him like if he looks hard enough he’ll find out what’s upset him...

It’s a lovely sight, he decides. 

“Does it hurt anywhere?” Tommy asks him. “Your arm actin’ up again? We have bandages, Wil, I can go get ‘em.”

It doesn’t hurt anywhere that a bandage can fix. The pain is inside of him. But he appreciates the kid’s effort, the way he’s willing to do anything to help him. Wilbur wishes Tommy could just plunge his hands into his chest and soothe whatever is aching there. 

“Don’t worry about it,” At heart, he is still an older brother figure, it feels strange to have Tommy take care of him. “I’m okay.”

“Like hell you are,” Tommy huffs. “C’mon, I’m no good at guessing, just- tell me? Please?”

Tommy’s weight has shifted until he’s almost sitting on the bed. The added weight is familiar, reminds him of how Tommy was lying there just last night. 

It couldn’t hurt to tell him a little, right?

“I slept well last night.” Wilbur begins, the statement appears to puzzle Tommy. “I haven’t slept well in so, so fucking long.”

“That’s… that’s good then, yeah?”

“It’s because you were here.” Wilbur manages to say. 

Tommy blinks. “Oh.”

“It just felt nice to not be alone. And when I woke up, you were gone, and it all just came back.” He might be oversharing, but continues. “I missed you.”

“Wow,” Tommy seems to soften, but uncomfortably so, like the words made him uneasy. “Well, I could-- I can stay? Would that help?”

His heart races with want. “I thought you were going to see Tubbo?”

“It, uh, can wait, I guess.”

Wilbur smiles, his Tommy is always eager to please. So he pats the bed next to him, a signal for Tommy to sit further up besides him

The younger returns the smile, albeit uncertainly, and climbs up the bed next to him. They both settle and lay down, Tommy on his back while Wilbur is facing him on his side. 

“Do you feel better?” Tommy asks him, sounding small. 

Wilbur can’t help but stare at him, eyes full of adoration. This is all he needs. Tommy is everything.

“Much,” He says. “Thank you, Tommy.”

When he returns to unconsciousness, he’s never slept better in his life. 

Even after that night, the two continue to share a bed. Nothing makes Wilbur happier, in his heart, he knows he is meant to be here. 

At one point, Wilbur had a goal; aspirations to regain control over L’manburg. To him, it was stolen unjustly, a scam in the election that left Schlatt victorious. 

Let’s just say, those priorities have shifted a little.

It’s a slow, creeping certainty when he realizes that there was a lot more justice in the results that led to his downfall. It was a democracy, after all. It crushes him when he thinks about just how _fair_ it actually was. It doesn’t end his resentment, though, he still wants the president's head on a stake for what he’s done to him and Tommy. They didn’t-- _Tommy_ didn’t deserve this.

Wilbur doesn’t really care if he’s in the right anymore. His morals have seceded in favor of needing revenge. 

Tommy doesn’t agree with him. 

“The fuck are you on about?” Is the reaction Wilbur recieves to his plans. “That’s _your_ nation Wilbur! So get yourself together and let’s take it back!”

“If it’s mine,” Wilbur stalks towards the younger, forcing him closer to the wall of the cave. “Then I should get to do whatever I want with it, yeah? What if I _want_ it burnt to the ground, Tommy?”

Tommy clenches his jaw and looks at him with resistance. Then, he corrects himself. “It’s _ours.”_

“It is?” Wilbur asks rhetorically, challenging him. 

“It is.”

“Hmm,” Wilbur hums, certainly there’s a way to get Tommy on his side for this. “But you trust me, don’t you?”

Tommy pauses. “I… I do, but--”

He leaves no room for Tommy’s defiance. “And you love me, right?”

It’s obvious by the look on Tommy’s face that he wasn’t expecting that question. Wilbur has shocked himself a little, too. He doesn’t want to force the kid’s hand like this, to strongarm him into compliance. But what else can he do when Tommy is so damn stubborn? Slowly, he backs Tommy even further against the cave, he’ll have his agreement one way or another. 

“Wilbur…” Tommy presses himself to the wall, distancing himself. “Of course, of course I do. But this isn’t right, we’re better than this.”

He’s not having any of that, purposely, Wilbur places his upper arm against the wall, caging Tommy. 

“Tommy.” Wilbur whispers his name, leaning in closer. He watches as Tommy’s eyes widen before scanning the room, looking for a way out, maybe. “I’m not. I’m not better than this.”

It's instant, how Tommy goes from fretful, to scared, to outright panicked. Shallow breaths are leaving the boys lungs, like he’s too afraid to even _breathe._

Wilbur is utterly enamored. 

“S...stop. Fucking _stop.”_ Then, Tommy’s eyes fill with tears. _“Get. The. Hell. Away.”_

Tommy pushes Wilburs arm off the wall, he stumbles, and then snaps out of it. He comes out of his trance, and Tommy begins to sob, looking at Wilbur like he’s a cornered animal. 

Instantly, Wilbur backs up. He hadn’t even realized how close he had gotten, inches away from the kid’s face. 

Fuck.

The guilt rushes through him, he hadn’t meant to hurt Tommy, had he? He can’t even tell anymore. All he knows is that the most important person in his life is standing-- _shaking_ \-- in front of him, sobbing, terrified. He fumbles with an apology. 

“I- I didn’t--” He struggles. “Tommy I am so sorry.”

Tommy just raises his arms to his face, hiding as he cries quietly, not wanting to look weak. All he replies with are soft sniffles.

“Tommy,” Wilbur tries to pull the younger’s arm away, he wants to look at him, to show him he’s sincere. “Don’t cry, I love you, please don’t cry.”

It gets Tommy’s attention, at least a little. When their eyes meet again, Tommy seems to be scanning him, maybe trying to tell if he’s genuine. 

He appears to decide. “Just-- why do you have to scare me like that? Don’t fucking do that.” 

“I won't,” Wilbur says hurriedly. “I won't, I’m sorry.”

Tommy will deny it until his dying breath, but he’s not as tough as he pretends to be. Wilbur knows this, it’s one of the reasons he’s always been so protective over him. Truthfully, the kid has been through a lot. 

After that incident, Wilbur swears to himself he will never become another thing that Tommy has to fear.

And, inevitably, he breaks that promise. 

The pair have shared a bed ever since Wilbur had his small breakdown and confessed his loneliness. It keeps Wilbur sleeping soundly, keeps him sane. Or, at the very least, slows his decline into madness. 

It was bound to happen eventually, with unpredictable movements in their sleep, but it doesn’t stop Wilbur from being surprised when he wakes up with Tommy in his arms. 

They’re pressed together, legs tangled, with Tommy’s face buried in Wilbur’s chest. Sleepily, Wilbur looks down at him, staring at the boy's hair and what he can see of his face. 

And he melts. 

Who can blame him? The way they’re locked together, it's heavenly; it’s _addictive_. So much so that he can’t even look away when Tommy begins to stir awake. 

“Wil…?” He grumbles, voice heavy with sleep.

Heart beating so wildly that he’s sure Tommy can feel it, he responds. “Hm?”

Then, Tommy is conscious enough to understand the position they are in. His head tilts up to look at Wilbur. 

“O-oh. Shit. Sorry, I’ll just--” Tommy begins to move away. 

_No no no no no._

Wilbur holds onto him, doesn’t let him leave. 

“Wilbur?!” Tommy squeaks out as the older pulls him closer. 

“Stay.” Wilbur whispers.

Tommy freezes, turns his head away from Wilbur and struggles just a little more. 

“Please, Tommy.” Wilbur resorts to begging. “I need this-- need you-- please.”

He really doesn’t like being so desperate, but in the end, he knows what’s necessary to convince Tommy. He’s fully aware of the kid’s discomfort, but he feels as though he will stop breathing if Tommy leaves. They can work on Tommy’s unease later, right now, this is all that matters. 

“I- I…” Tommy stutters. “Uh, okay, sure.”

Wilbur smiles. “You’re perfect.” The words slip out, he can’t help but shower his boy with praise. He deserves it, Wilbur knows, deserves to be loved more than anything. 

As he relaxes, Tommy remains tense. Wilbur figures he’ll calm down eventually. Then, he falls back asleep, curled up against his scared, shaking body. 

He’s in love. 

By the time Wilbur is able to recognize his feelings as romantic, he’s too far gone to care. He doesn’t care that Tommy has always been like a little brother to him, he doesn’t care that he’s not acting the same anymore, he doesn’t care that Tommy never seems to sleep anymore since he started holding him. 

_He doesn’t care._

Tommy will come along, he will begin to understand. And, until he does, Wilbur will give him all the love he is capable of, all of the love he deserves. 

Wilbur is nothing without him. Tommy is everything.

He’s so obsessed that his plans to destroy L’manburg are put on hold, because that’s another one of the things he decides he doesn’t care about. 

There isn’t a moment that he allows Tommy to leave his side, always demanding new tasks from him, insisting he stays in bed with him longer. Surely, with all the time they spend together, Tommy will begin to feel the same. Wilbur thinks he already might. 

Then, Tommy approaches him with something unexpected.

“Wil?” The kid calls for him quietly, waking him up. Tommy is sitting up in the bed next him, poking at his shoulder to stir him. 

“Yes?” 

“I want… can I go see Tubbo today?” 

Wilbur feels his heart grow bitter with jealousy. “You want to leave?”

“I-I’ll come right back! Promise!” Tommy says defensively. “I just haven’t seen him in almost two weeks now, I want to check up on him, make sure he’s okay in Manburg.”

He wants nothing more than to pull Tommy back into bed with him, force him to stay longer and take care of him. 

But, Tommy has been really good for him, hasn’t he? He hasn’t fought him, wordlessly letting Wilbur cling to his presence. He supposes he can spare the kid some freedom, granted he comes right back into his arms when he returns. 

And before, he decides. “Give me a hug before you go.” Wilbur says, sitting up in bed. 

“R-right! Of course, Wil.”

Wilbur tugs him into a hug, which Tommy returns hesitantly, stiffly. Putting his head down on his shoulder, Wilbur relishes the warm breath over his neck. The hug lasts minutes, but Tommy has been conditioned into it being normal by now.

“I love you, Tommy.” Wilbur tells him.

Tommy feels tense. “Love you too, big man.”

Right now, they are two very different types of love.

That will change, Wilbur knows it. 

It’s only once he’s alone that Wilbur is reminded of how lonely he used to be. It’s unbearable, suffocating. It’s almost like Tommy is his oxygen, he’s left gasping for air without him. 

When his boy gets back, he’s going to smother him. 

But, to Wilbur’s immense disappointment, it’s ages before he does. Hours pass, each minute ticking by so slow that he could be convinced that Tommy has been gone for centuries. 

So can he really be blamed if, when Tommy finally clicks open the door, Wilbur tackles him in an embrace? 

Tommy stutters backwards, almost tripping over himself. “Woah- calm yourself, yeah?”

“I missed you.” Wilbur confesses instantly. “God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“I- I’m here, Wilbur, it’s fine--”

“It’s _not.”_ The older hugs him so tight that Tommy might just break. “Needed you, felt like I was gonna _die.”_

Tommy coughs awkwardly, urging Wilbur to relinquish his hold. “Alright, no need to be dramatic about it.” He laughs humorlessly. 

Wilbur backs up just enough to be able to look the blond in the eyes, which are wide when he takes in the way Wilbur looks at him. 

He feels as though he is starving, clinging to the kid like he is his only salvation. And Tommy looks so _perfect,_ so handsome and flawless and-- well, Wilbur was going to wait until Tommy had grown a little more comfortable with his affections, but now he just _can't._

Quickly, he reaches a hand to the back of the younger's neck, then forces their mouths to connect. 

The second Tommy can process what happened, he moves his hand to Wilbur’s shoulders and tries to push him away. He’s able to pull out of the kiss, but only for a second before being attached once more. 

Wilbur drinks in Tommy like water in a desert, it’s the best thing he’s ever felt; he is relentless, but so is Tommy, who pushes and shoves and tries his hardest to turn his head away. Finally, Wilbur let’s them disconnect, only because he has other plans. 

“ _What the fuck Wilbur?!”_ Tommy tries to kick at him. “You can’t-- you--”

Tommy seems to lose his train of thought when Wilbur’s lips move to his neck, sucking and biting on the pale skin. 

“So good, so perfect.” He bites down on his neck. 

The younger gasps, though it may just be from the pain. Wilbur doesn’t care, continuing to mark his skin. 

_"Wilbur!”_ Tommy protests. “What the hell?? G-get off!”

“Please, Tommy,” Wilbur comes back up to kiss him again. “You love me, right? You still love me?” 

“Not like-- like _this!”_ The shoving becomes less aggressive, still continuing. “I do l-love you, but like a brother, Wil, not whatever this is, _please_ let go.”

How he wishes Tommy were less resilient. He would treat him so well, make him feel so good. If he could just have his boy’s submission for a moment, he knows he could make Tommy enjoy it. There has to be some way he can convince him. 

“Just a little longer? I’ve wanted you for so long, Toms,” He nearly begs. “I’ll let you go afterwards, promise, please let me have this.”

Tommy goes still, possibly considering his options. Wilbur can almost imagine what he’s thinking; maybe a way to get out? Or thinking of his offer? Or maybe he wants this too?

“Just… just kissing, okay? Then let me go.”

Wilbur is ecstatic. 

In less than a second, they’re kissing again, there is a little less urgency this time. Wilbur wants to make Tommy enjoy it now. So he presses his lips softer, fingers carding into the soft hair he is holding. With a gentle tug, he pushes Tommy’s mouth more firmly onto his.

He receives a whimper in return. Success. 

Tommy, previously unresponsive, begins to kiss him back. The movement is uncertain, clearly not sure what he’s doing, but it makes Wilbur reply with a noise of his own. He doesn’t want to overwhelm his boy again, so he pulls away.

“You’re so good at that.” He praises, and is delighted to hear another small sound. 

“K-kissing?”

“Yes.” He’s leaned in so close that he’s speaking against Tommy’s lips. “So fucking good, Tommy. Can you kiss me some more?”

“I- I guess.” Tommy answers. “Then you’ll let go?”

Wilbur nods. He will let Tommy go if he still wants it, but he’s on a mission to get him to want _more._

Carefully, he starts to bite at the blond's lower lip. Definitely not enough to hurt or even overwhelm him, but he hopes it’s enough to get a positive reaction. 

And he indeed wins one, Tommy chokes out a moan; reluctant, like he didn’t want it to happen. Wilbur feels giddy as he hears it. 

“Wil-- Wil, slow down.”

He chuckles darkly. “Why? Too much?” 

When Tommy doesn’t say anything, Wilbur, to confirm a small suspicion he has, presses one of his legs between Tommy’s. The result is instant, the boy gasps and tries to move his hips so Wilbur isn’t touching him. Before he manages to squirm out of the way, he gets to feel just how he affected him. 

How cute. 

“Feels good, yeah?”

Tommy whines. “You… this isn’t ‘just kissing’, Wil.”

“I know,” He grinds his hips upwards. “But you seem to like it.”

Tommy opens his mouth, maybe to protest, but Wilbur doesn’t wanna risk that happening, so he dives in for another kiss. At the same time, he presses his leg more firmly against Tommy. 

Now the kid is moaning into the kiss, little cut off noises that sound like they are being forced out of him. Wilbur can only smile, he’s glad Tommy is enjoying himself. 

_“Fuck,”_ Tommy gasps, his head tilts upwards and it pushes him out of the kiss, but luckily also gives Wilbur access to his neck once more. “You g-gotta- gotta stop.”

“What? Before you’re done?” Wilbur moves one of his hands down to Tommy’s hip, he guides him to start moving as well. “C’mon, just be good for me, I know you can.”

By some miracle, Tommy actually listens, starts to move his hips without Wilbur helping him along.

“There you go, perfect.”

It doesn’t take long like this, teenage hormones are a powerful force, after all. Wilbur can tell when Tommy gets close by the way his movements stutter, as well as the change of pitch in his voice.

“Can’t-- Wil, I can’t--”

“Sure you can,” Wilbur doesn’t cease his movements. “Almost there, Tommy, come on.”

That’s when Tommy starts shaking, his legs tremble and he starts to have trouble keeping up. It spurs Wilbur on, this is all he wants, to see his Tommy feel good. 

“Wil-- _Wilbur, fuck!”_

The kid nearly collapses when he comes, he would have if Wilbur wasn’t holding him up. 

“Yes, _so_ fucking good, Toms.” 

It’s the sight of Tommy coming undone that does Wilbur in as well, harshly thrusting against him. He swears while he grinds into him, riding out his high. 

They catch their breath, and Wilbur leans back to admire his work. The dark red marks on Tommy’s neck, lips red and swollen from the intense kisses, and still fucking trembling. 

It sure is a sight to see. 

“I love you.” Wilbur tells him. 

Tommy just whines, refuses to look Wilbur in the eyes. But Wilbur places his hand below Tommy’s chin and lifts, forcing the eye contact.

“I said,” He is terribly tempted to lean in for another kiss. “I love you, Tommy. Do you love me?”

Tommy looks scared, like he could cry. “I-- I do, I love y-you.”

He smiles. 

Wilbur cleans the two of them up, finds Tommy some new clothes as well. He would appreciate it if the child could be grateful, but he just stares blankly, unresponsive. 

He’ll come around, Wilbur thinks. 

They fall asleep in the same bed, he holds Tommy, of course. He always does, but it feels different this time, special. He can’t help himself from looking at Tommy’s neck constantly, seeing the marks. 

_Mine._

The cave around them is dark, lanterns that provide the only dim light have been turned off. Wilbur supposes it would feel eerie, but only if Tommy weren’t there.

Luckily, he is, and he will never have to suffer through another restless night again. 

And so he sleeps, peaceful, the sound of the kid’s shallow breathing acting as his lullaby. 

Tommy is gone by the time Wilbur wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting from 2 am to noon the next day plz give it some love lol
> 
> Anyways! Hope you enjoyed! :D

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is actually from a song called “nights like these” by pigeon pit, which I highly recommend as it is very underrated lol
> 
> Thank you for reading!! I’ll try and have another chapter out sometime this week so stay tuned!! Comments are always very appreciated!!


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